


Run Away, Run Towards, Run Away

by Xenobotanist



Series: Julian Bashir's Holoprograms [3]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Companionable Snark, Competitive Running, Copious Adjectives, Gratuitous Depictions of Scenery, Jumbled-Up Julian, M/M, Not much forest but plenty of pine, Pre-Slash, Sneaky Garak, accidental nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:41:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25592221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xenobotanist/pseuds/Xenobotanist
Summary: Julian needs to run to let off some stress and caffeine. But when a companion joins him, things get better. Or worse. It depends on how you look at it.
Relationships: Julian Bashir & Elim Garak, Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Series: Julian Bashir's Holoprograms [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1840942
Comments: 18
Kudos: 50





	Run Away, Run Towards, Run Away

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to send a special shout-out to the following members:  
> eilu, mami94, the_last_dillards, ectogeo, scuzbrains, ninjaspirateslasersanddragons, skywalkerlesbian.  
> Thank you for your kudos and comments- they keep me going!  
> UPDATED NOTE: I wrote this loosely based on the ruins around the pyramids of Giza, but if you want to see what was in my head for the story, look up "Meroe ruins." THAT is exactly the setting. (I just learned about them in Feb. 2021)

Julian stared at the lanes stretching out before him, stretching one leg and then the other. It was a near-perfect replica of the track found at Starfleet Academy, a deep red with pale gray lines. He’d run it dozens--maybe hundreds--of times before, but this would be his first completely solo trek. The grounds were vacant. He silently thanked Felix for making the program customizable, because he was completely done with humanoid interaction for the day.

During a rough period in the infirmary in which he’d had to repair the damage of yet _another_ bar fight between Morn and the visiting Nausicaans (really, when would they _learn_ that most of the Lurian’s bulk was solid muscle?), he’d been driven to consume no fewer than 6 raktajinos, and now he was riding out the aftereffects of too much caffeine consumption. Hopping on one foot, switching to the other, jogging in place with arms up but loose, he felt primed.

Taking off, he sprinted down the course. With no one to observe him, he let his full abilities take command. The scenery flashed by as his legs pumped as hard and fast as possible. He could feel his pulse and respiration increase with the effort, and he pushed a little harder, but there was little to no gratification or satisfaction, even after 4 laps.

He paused, jogging in place. “Computer, change to Great Wall of China.” Suddenly, he was surrounded by pale stones. He started back up, looking forward to the challenge of hills, stairs, and cracked or crumbling blocks. The path blurred under his feet, and at the first set of steps he simply leapt over them to the higher platform. Through a dim, cool tower and then back out into the sunshine, greenery stretching for miles around. Beautiful, yes. Sufficient, no.

“Computer… Alpine Trail 6.” Now he was in a forest, near the tree line. The dirt path before him was strewn with branches and rocks, and very noticeably sloped upward. He checked that his shoes were snug and got to it, crunching and cracking under his feet as he sped up. The dodging of low branches and vaulting over fallen logs helped burn off some of his agitation, and the increasingly vertical slope definitely wore him down. The track grew more craggy, with steps carved naturally in the rocky earth of the mountain, and the constantly lift and push was beginning to burn a solid blaze in his thighs, but… he didn’t feel like he was getting anywhere. There was too much effort in moving _up_ , but not forward. 

Julian stopped and set his hands on his hips. “Computer, Giza Circuit.” He threw out his arms for balance as he was dropped onto a small slope of shifting sand. He didn’t even glance at the pyramids, just dug in his feet and ran. The landscape was mostly flat, allowing him to cross a long distance, but the sand constantly shifted and sank beneath him, tripling the effort it took to push off for each stride. Finally, this was what he needed. He dashed over the terrain, pushing himself as he seldom had the chance to, gold, yellow, and tan sediments flying by beneath his feet.

Nearing the temple complex, an irregularity grabbed his attention. There was a lone gray figure pacing on one of the low walls.

Julian rolled his eyes and changed course, slowing down on the approach.

“Garak.” He was a little winded, but it was mostly the invasion of privacy that reigned in his normally innate courtesy.

“Doctor.” The Cardassian didn’t even turn to acknowledge him, choosing instead to examine the sphinx looming nearby.

“What do you need, Garak.” He purposely stated it like a command instead of a question. Tell me why you disturbed my peace, then leave me alone.

“When I asked you about your plans for the evening, you were more vague than usual. Being aware that this would pique my curiosity, I assumed you meant it as an invitation to track you down. But perhaps I was mistaken,” he added, noticing Bashir’s frown.

He’d been correct on both assumptions, to some degree. “I didn’t tell you exactly what I was going to do, because I was distracted and didn’t even really know myself, beyond going to the holosuite.” And he _had_ been aware that not supplying a direct answer was likely to provoke his friend, and maybe even subconsciously invite him to dig a little deeper. Wasn’t everything they said one form of temptation or another anyway?

“I can see now that you were looking for some… physical exertion. Exercise is an admirable endeavor, Doctor. It’s a pity your species isn’t particularly designed for this particular environment,” he tutted.

As expected, Bashir bristled. “I’ll have you know that my own people, the Arabs, come from this very habitat. My darker skin is an adaptation to the high levels of UV light my ancestors were exposed to.” He gestured to said skin, of which there was a great deal showing. His yellow tank top and lavender running shorts were his favorite exercise clothes, but they didn’t leave a lot to the imagination. 

Garak’s gaze followed the gesture, hiding his interest in the smooth skin dappled with sparse fur by donning a disdainful expression in deference to the clothing choice covering it. “And yet your species is so delicate that they must still don clothing as protection from the elements. My Cardassian hide is much more suited to a biome such as this.”

“I’d hardly know, seeing as how you cover it so thoroughly.” A sarcastic rejoinder, but also a thinly-veiled challenge.

“The station is hardly my ideal domain, dear Doctor. Too cold, too bright.”

Chagrined, Julian looked up at the sky. “Damn, I’m sorry. Computer: change the time of day to dusk.” They were instantly set beneath a deep purple sky that blended into red and coral where the sun dipped toward the horizon. “Is that better?”

“Immensely. But I had no intention of--” Garak broke off. “My, it’s actually quite beautiful, isn’t it?” The stonework around them had turned a deep rust, the shadows a plum hue. “It reminds me of some of the Hebitian ruins back on Cardassia.”

“I’d love to see them some time,” Julian commented, only realizing a moment too late how inappropriate the comment was. Being an exile, there was no way Garak could take him there, and even if the ban was lifted, it was a bit presumptuous that he would take his lunch companion back to his homeworld. He decided to return to more familiar ground, so to speak. “But for now, here we are in the ruins of the ancient Egyptians from Earth, and I believe you were telling me how _you_ are so much better adapted to my planet than _I_ am.”

The replying smirk was exactly what he’d intended to provoke. Garak let out a deep sigh. “Surely you’re aware that my ancestors were considerably less _mammalian_ than your own.” Bashir blushed. “Our epidermis is tough enough to withstand sandstorms and conserve water, and let me remind you that scales do not burn as readily as human skin. Our nails are more like claws, allowing for digging, our sense of smell is more acute… but maybe I shouldn’t give _all_ of our secrets away.” He smiled mischievously.

Julian was relieved to let the second to last comment slide. He didn’t want to think about the various embarrassing hormones he may or may not have emitted during some of their more spirited debates. Or--more likely, looking at the devilish expression on Garak’s face--that was _exactly_ what the Cardassian was trying to make him do. Well, now it was his turn, so he decided to up the odds. “Well, since you’re so _fantastically_ fit to be here, what’s your excuse for remaining covered up?”

“Why Doctor, I believe we never fully established if I was welcome in the first place. It would hardly do for me to undress, only for you to inform me that you wished to exercise in peace and dismiss me from the suite.”

Undress? Damn the man, he’d gone a step further. But this was familiar ground for a serial flirt like Dr. Julian Bashir. “Computer, standard running shorts, medium.” A shiny blue pair materialized, dropping to the ground between them. Julian snagged them, dangling the garment on his index finger. “You can stay,” he answered. “If you think you can keep up.”

The blazing look that flashed behind Garak’s eyes was both acceptance and warning. But instead of taking the garment, he began to undo his tunic. Julian dropped his hand, maintaining a firm grip but unable to look away. The front panel was opened, and Garak slipped the shirt off like a jacket before folding it to set on the wall. Julian wasn’t surprised by the form-fitting thermal undershirt, but he _was_ thrown by it being drawn up and over the man’s head. This too, was primly placed aside, revealing a gray torso that gleamed in the low light. Substatial and stocky, far more muscular than his well-tailored ensembles would lead one to believe.

Next, Garak sat on the ledge and began removing his shoes. His thermal socks followed, getting neatly rolled up and set inside the footwear. Julian couldn’t decide where to look: at the smoothish torso, framed by ridges and decorated with some intriguing hollows, or the feet, the top surfaces of which were clearly scaled and did indeed have thick nails that resembled claws. It wasn’t until he was caught gaping that he realized that he _could_ have looked somewhere else--anywhere else--and it hadn’t even occurred to him.

“Doctor?”

“Hmm?”

“The shorts?”

“Oh, ah, yes. Here.” Julian was nearly positive that Garak’s fingers brushed his on purpose as he passed the item over. His skin was still cool; would the rest also be, or would it have heated up here in the desert? Did those inverted tear-drops shapes have any special purposes, like communication or heat sensing? He looked from the one on Garak’s chest to his forehead, halting at the eye ridge raised archly in his direction. The Cardassian rolled his eyes before stalking off to disappear behind a column. Oh. _Oh._ He returned shortly, holding a thick pair of trousers folded over his arm and looking completely at ease, despite being clad in nothing more than 30cm of flimsy material.

Julian didn’t feel quite as confident anymore.

“Well, Doctor. I would like to prove that I can ‘keep up,’ as you put it, but I’d hardly say we’re on even footing,” he commented, looking pointedly downward.

“Um, okay. Fair enough.” Julian removed his own socks and shoes, and then decided to include his shirt in the elimination, to be sporting, of course. The grains covering the ground tickled between his toes, and he wiggled them, enjoying the soft texture.

Garak mimicked him, and almost immediately sank into the sand ankle-deep. It was like watching those lizards that shimmied until they were completely engulfed. He grinned up mockingly.

Julian shimmied his ankles ineffectively and tried his best to look embarrassed. It must have worked, because his friend barely twitched before dropping another increment, the sand now up to his calves. Smug. Snug.

Perfect.

Julian catapulted off.

The muffled cursing rapidly fading behind made him giggle in mirth.

Julian didn’t sprint, not wanting to put his all in. It wasn’t a race, more a test of endurance. Besides, what would be the fun of running with Garak if he wasn’t running _with_ Garak?

Still. He couldn’t make it _too_ easy on the infuriating man. He maintained a rigorous lope.

He needn’t have worried; the soft scuff of his falling footsteps was soon drowned out by a rapidly approaching _plish plish plish_.

Secretly impressed, he allowed the Cardassian to draw even. They nodded to each other, then continued. There wasn’t any clear path in this particular part of the program, so they headed roughly south, the pyramids to their left and the sunset their right. If it had been a date, Julian thought it could almost be… romantic.

They dashed across the landscape, scrub and small hillocks passing under their feet. An occasional lizard or beetle scurried by, barely noticed by the two figures. The sun sank lower, muting the colors in the sky. Past the pyramids, inky black and indigo blue began to rise. The only sounds were the rhythmic fall of their treads and panting breaths.

Just because he felt like it, Julian lengthened his stride, exultant in the pull of the muscles in his legs. Garak caught up a few moments later, only to overtake him by a few meters. He sped up, Garak sped up. The dance repeated for a quarter hour until their breathing grew a little labored, then mutually slowed down to an easier pace.

It was a lot like their lunchtime debates. One would pull ahead, then the other, pushing, taunting, encouraging. Furtive glances and laughing camaraderie, frustration, amusement, astonishment, arrogance, delight.

The cares of the day slowly dissolved in the low light, cast off with the sprays of sand that were tossed back from Julian’s soles. He could feel his muscles easing, knots unwinding, and that jittery buzz in his nerves finally calmed. He imagined that an hour or more had passed, and they’d barely shared more than a dozen words. That was… unusual.

But nice.

Night had fallen by the time they circled back and slowed to a comfortable jog. Nearing the ruins, the jog became a walk, then a meander. They wandered through arches and between pillars. They traced cracks and studied markings, avoiding crevasses, piles of rubble, and their point of origin. The program supplied enough low light for Julian to see details, although Garak claimed it wasn’t necessary for his own sight. If it _had_ been a date, Julian would now be looking for a cozy corner or tumbled stone for a nice bench and preparing some flowery compliments for his companion. But of course it wasn’t, so he didn’t. He just… kept walking.

It took him a moment to realize the silence had become stillness. He whipped around, searching for his companion. Where had Garak gone? Julian traced his footsteps, ducking around corners and glancing into shadows. He almost called out, but realized this was almost certainly a game. Or a test. Although it hardly felt fair; there were just _too many_ places to hide. 

There was the faint clack of a single pebble behind him. It had to be on purpose. There was no way Garak would be that sloppy. He turned around and headed in the general direction of the noise. Behind a low wall and down a slope sat the Cardassian, perched on a plinth right out in the open. He was smiling serenely like he had been there the whole time, despite Julian having passed through only a minute before.

Garak’s gray chiseled body blended in with the stones around him, making him appear more statue than man. To Julian, it was like traveling back in time to an ancient site of worship, only to find the genus loci come to life. He approached with a certain sense of awe, once again aware of how sturdy and solid his friend was, how innately powerful. Blue eyes nearly glowed out of the silver face.

Mesmerizing.

Magnetic.

One step closer.

Another. 

A tug, somewhere around Julian’s navel, like he was being pulled on a string.

Could Garak feel it, too?

If you’d asked Julian before tonight if he was religious, he would have said he’d never given it much thought.

But he was now.

Could a person actually feel starlight on their skin?

Could you taste a person without even touching them?

Could a Human Starfleet medical officer find everything he’d ever desired in a Cardassian Obsidian Order agent?

And could that spy desire (love?) that doctor back?

He’d reached the bottom of the slope, and Garak stood to meet him. He murmured something low and fervent, but the translator failed to interpret it. Perhaps ancient Hebitian? Julian replied, relying on his mother’s Egyptian dialect of Arabic, aware the translator wouldn’t pick that up either.

They both raised their hands at the same time, palms out, and touched.

A red 5-minute timer appeared on Garak’s forehead and began counting down. 4:59, 4:58…

“Computer, timer off,” Julian groaned, slowly dropping his hands. He sucked in a deep breath. “Ah, Quark charges double if you run over your time, and triple if it runs into someone else's reservation. We have five minutes left.”

Garak looked away. “Then perhaps we should locate our clothing.”

Julian was grateful to the darkness for hiding his blush.

The pair looked around briefly before realizing it’d be easier to just end the program and retrieve their clothes from the floor. Of course, they’d forgotten that Garak’s shorts were _part_ of the program. At least, Julian had. He froze at the sight of a very naked and vaguely bemused Cardassian. 

Garak gave him a pointed look before reaching for his trousers. “This was a rather pleasant evening, Doctor. Perhaps we could do it again some time.” One leg in, then the other. Sliding over the hips… “Unless you find me too much of a distraction,” he added teasingly.

Too busy watching Garak to pay attention to his own actions, Julian had slipped the wrong shoe on his foot. He hastily remedied the mistake and finished up, only to find the tailor waiting for him, already impeccably put together. He cast about desperately for something to say. Some final parting comment, a show of gratitude, even a sarcastic quip. The fact that Garak was watching him with barely-concealed amusement at his expense didn’t help.

Julian wanted to say something to fluster the nearly-unflappable man. He wanted to trace the ridges over his brows, to feel the skin that had shone beneath the stars. He wanted to invite him back to the holosuite another time, or back to his quarters, tonight. He wanted… too many things. He swallowed, preparing a declaration that he was feeling dirty and needed a nice, long… shower, when he met Garak’s eyes and it just sort of fizzled away. 

He knew what he _didn’t_ want. He didn’t want to ruin their friendship. He didn’t want a one-night stand. He didn’t want to hurt this person who’d become so dear to him. And he knew he had the power to.

Julian opened his mouth, about to wish his friend a good evening, when his legs carried him over and his arms reached out and his head dipped forward and… he kissed him instead.

Shaken, he pulled back. There was an equally shocked look on Garak’s face. 

Ashamed, terrified, and more than a little in love, Julian fled.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this got completely out of hand. THEY WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO KISS.  
> I was super stressed and decided to have Julian run my anxiety away. Garak was going to run with him, and they’d bond over exercise. That was it.  
> It certainly wasn’t my idea for Garak to strip; that was all him and Julian. It was also Garak’s idea to hide in the ruins and be all sexy. He’s one sneaky SOB. I tell you, once I get these guys down on paper (or screen), they just take over the story.  
> And I don’t think any of the three of us intended to get all mushy. I can’t really blame the ancient Egyptians for that, though. I doubt they intended for their burial sites to be used for romantic interludes. Maybe Quark put something in the vents of the holosuites. I wouldn’t put it past him.  
> No, I won’t tell you what they said in the ruins.  
> [additional note: The actress who plays Julian’s mother, Amsha (Fadwa El Guindi) was born in Egypt. I didn’t find that out until towards the very end and had to tie it in.]


End file.
